My Crystals

From a great place called Tasmania
I got them one year ago
from an enormous, crowded market.

They feel like a piece of glass when I
rub them in my palms.
they are like a dried up river.

Rare,
reflecting,
the rocks run
into the centre of the pillow.
When I throw them,
they are bullets smashing holes
into my pillow.

When the day has finished and the sun has gone to sleep,
my crystals hide away in my treasure box
waiting for tomorrow.